


To Err is Vulcan

by The_Norsiest



Category: Star Trek
Genre: Abduction, Alien Culture, Earth, First Contact, Gen, Humans, Humor, Mind Meld, Monks, Star Trek - Freeform, Starfleet, Starfleet officers, Vulcans, made up historical events, space stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:08:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22724437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Norsiest/pseuds/The_Norsiest
Summary: While staying at a Vulcan monastery, ensign Nazari of Starfleet stumbles across an old history book with one word he recognizes repeated over and over: the old Vulcan word for Earth.Excerpt: “I guess… I guess it never occurred to me that that could happen…” Ramy said softly, staring down at the few leaves which had managed to remain at the bottom of his drink. “Vulcans… can screw up.” he lapsed back into quiet.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13





	1. Yiskk is a four letter word

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Gyhl for being my beta reader, editor and cheerleader.

It wasn’t every human that got the honor of visiting a Vulcan monastery. Ensign Ramy Nazari was the first alien, in fact, to be given consent not only to visit this isolated order but to stay several weeks and observe the holiday of Kal Rekk. As a science officer he was taking the privilege very seriously. He never entered a room without permission, rarely spoke unless spoken to, and joined in with the daily chores. Although he was there to observe, he felt compelled to live as the monks did and show respect for their way of life. 

Each dawn he would rise with the sun stretching slightly on the cold stone floor; like the monks said, it allowed the rays of sunshine to heat the body as they did the sands of Vulcan. Each afternoon, he shared a quiet meal with the order as they contemplated existence with every bite of the tofu like substance known as Yiskk, a grey lump of compounded plant matter served cold and runny. It was a reminder that food was for nourishment and its voidance of flavor served not to distract from the logic which surrounded them at every turn.

In the morning, after breakfast, Nazari sat in silence with the group as they meditated for three solid hours in the great room. Every evening after dinner he sat in silence with the group as they meditated for four solid hours in the great room. During this time everyone was encouraged to focus on the three components of life; their past, the decisions that had been made. The present, each decision they were currently making. Was it logical? They were asked to consider what possible direction their lives would take in the future, the decisions that had yet to be made, the paths yet to be followed. Should they eat their Yiskk while drinking water, or drink water before they ate their Yiskk, or eat their Yiskk and then drink their water, forgo their meal in favor of meditation, meditated by the window in order to feel the breeze, or meditate by the alter for guidance from Surak, meditate in their rooms or in the hall, meditate while standing, or meditate while sitting, or…

It had been eight days.

Eight unbearably boring days of constant mindlessness for the human. That day he physically couldn’t bring himself to join the monks as they sat in the great room restrained and focused on their own ascension. He attempted. He pushed himself to leave his tiny quarters. He managed to get his feet, which felt like led weights, down the stairs. He stood for a good ten minutes staring at the spiral etched into the floor indicating the proper placement for each person to take their seat. Another day, another hour, another minute of meditation… he turned around and ran.

It was the first exercise he’d had since he’d last used a holodeck. Up and down various corridors, through the courtyards, left, right, north and east. Anywhere, anywhere at all to avoid the speechless figures of cold dark eyes and blank faces. Away from the ones who would disapprove of his footsteps as they pounded against the floor of the ancient structure. He ran. He ran until he was out of breath and panting in the furthest reaches of compound: the Eastern wing. He was sweating, drenching his robes around the collar and underarms. But he was relieved; it felt good to run.

Ramy took a few deep breaths, leaning against the window and attracting the attention of a large bird which perched on the opposing roof. Its concern for his well-being strikingly apparent in contrast with Vulcans. It half-cawed, half-chirped at him in a way that no bird from his home planet would have done; its presence distracting him for a moment and allowing his mind to clear as the endorphins settled. 

He composed himself and began to plan. He was a scientist. He should explore his surroundings to better understand and gain a greater appreciation for those who had built this place of solitude; to investigate the halls constructed by those who’d lived hundreds of years prior so that future generations could follow in their footsteps and learn to appreciate all that which was logical. It was living history and he simply could not ignore the logical act of taking this opportunity. Or at least that’s what he’d tell them if they caught him snooping.

Most of the rooms were very much the same. Simple to no decorations in the living chambers. Elaborate and gaudy décor in the main areas. Like the 12 inch high statue of Surak which stood on a pedestal in the hall. Even with its simple design and coloring it remained somewhat ostentatious with the way the rough stone curved around it and contrasted to the statue’s smooth texture. He accidently knocked it over, breaking it into three pieces. He scrambled to hide them, finding a vase and tucking the pieces as not to damage them further. They’d discover this later, link it to the human who’d behaved so irrationally, but with any luck Ramy would be gone by then and away from their judgmental stares. Maybe he could send an apology letter.

As Ramy stepped away from the vase, his gaze trailed to the room at the end of the corridor. He’d not been given a proper tour upon his arrival, but he’d known there was a library here. One of the oldest on the planet, it housed a large selection of works dating back to before the reform. The knowledge here was unique, to say the least, giving him a one-of-a-kind opportunity to study ancient Vulcan texts. He moved to enter the room, as suddenly it was the only place on the entire planet the ensign had any interest in.  


Ramy gladly would have poured hours of his life researching through the history and philosophy books which were housed here with no other copies; the ones never recorded into modern computers. Their words absent from knowledge beyond what was found here on the page. He would have read every manual on the proper execution of meditation, which was nothing like the physical act of sitting for hours on end while your legs fell asleep and you didn’t dare move even to scratch an itch lest you offend the senior monks with your aberrant behavior. The officer could have would have loved to stay in this room for the rest of his visit, shoulders hunched as he lapped up the knowledge only a few dozen alive could ever claim to have forgotten. He would have loved to share in all of it if only he knew Vulcan.

The mid-day chanting began, signaling the end of first contemplation and start of second contemplation. It was a signal to the absent monks in the building should they care to join the rest in the great room.

Now seemed a good time to learn another language.

If Nazari was going to be kicked out for disturbing the peace, he might as well enjoy himself. He scanned the large section of books. The monks wouldn’t dare allow the texts to be covered in dust, cleaning each one by hand as a part of their daily chores. Still, it was easy to spot which scriptures where older than the rest. Unlike humans who organized by content, author, or title, the Vulcans ordered theirs by time (at least in the history section). The older the book, the higher the shelf and further back in the wing it would be held. The young man ran his fingers along the spines, unsure of what he was looking for.

He’d never know if it was an act of fate, an act of chance, or simple logic that it was the only book with red cover amongst the sea of blues and browns and greys; but there, almost to the back corner, on the second to highest shelf, Ramy found himself unable to resist the siren’s call of this particular tome. More interesting was that ,when he brought it down from its perch and began to flip through the pages, his limited knowledge of the language served him. On several pages, one word he recognized was featured repeatedly: the old Vulcan for Earth.


	2. Of Elves and Rings

The gardens of the monastery weren’t meant to have any aesthetically pleasing purpose. They were for the production of edible plant life to serve the needs of the small cloister. One dome was all that was afforded to them, with space enough for several crops to be rotated throughout the year. Large leaves of green and pale blue hung over the sides of raised beds; a species of grass from the planet Tolric adorned the ground in a muted purple shade, only able to grow within these walls because outside it would be lost to the elements of a harsh unyielding desert. The windows of the dome let in just enough sun for proper growth which drowned the area in a dusky light. Even a Vulcan, who was to find no logic in beauty, could appreciate the visual appeal of the modern building which surrounded the forest-like vegetation. And admire it T’Penna did.

At 212, T’Penna was the oldest member of the order. And being such had perks. While the other members sat in the quiet chamber of contemplation, alone with their thoughts and silently debating the best means to control their emotion of boredom, the older woman was allowed her absence without question and could often be found in the gardens tending to the crops. After all, while Yiskk was good nourishment for the body, you could only eat it for so long before you’d rather go out and throw sand in your mouth for the sake of little flavor.

Ramy knew, if any one of the order would be willing to translate the pages of the ancient book, his best shot was to ask T’Penna.

The chime range loudly from inside the great room, the one signaling the end of second contemplation and the beginning of third. T’Penna ignored it and wiped her brow clean of dirt before she took a seat on the stone bench. She’d already replanted several species of tubers, watered the giant Jaben fruit trees, and rid the fourth bed of decaying Talshi petals. It was hard work and if she didn’t want to sit on the floor and pretend her bones didn’t ache then she found no logic in doing so. T’Penna was taking her time, enjoying the winds coming through the open doors. They picked up just as the human poked his head around in search for the elder.

She studied him as he darted his gaze from side to side before moving through the archway, a small item tucked closely, and half hidden in his sleeves. Strange, she thought, though she said nothing. He approached her with haste and gave the salute with his free hand. She returned the gesture and waited for his explanation as to why he had come to bother her.

Nazari pulled his hands forward revealing the book “T’Penna” he started “I found this book in library” he paused in his explanation.

"That is the most logical place to keep them” she offered.

Vulcans would say they took no enjoyment in life, joy itself being an emotion, but as the young man studied the ancient face of the woman, he could have sworn there was the slightest hint, a sparkle of amusement at her own joke.

“Right” he added, moving to sit on the ground in front of her. He held up an open page and indicated to the word he recognized. “This is the old word for Earth isn’t it?”

It had been ages since T’Penna had seen that red-bound collection of reports. Even longer since someone had cared to read it. She reached out and took the novel from the human, scanning her fingers over the words on the page.

“Third planet, 12th star system” she read the literal description. “Yes, it refers to earth, from a time before we knew it had a name.” It had, therefore, just been given a description. One based on the astronomical charts of that era.

"But…” Ramy furrowed his brow “that is… we were taught Vulcans had no interest in earth. No real concept of it other than that it was a planet in our star system. At least, not before first contact. Why does this book mention it so many times?”

Unlike other members of her species, T’Penna was willing to admit that Vulcans occasionally bent the truth in order to avoid certain problems. She had an opportunity here to do just that. The human (who was practically a child by her advanced years) would never be able to decipher the writing during his stay, not enough to truly grasp what it meant. She could misrepresent the contents, mention it was simple reports filed about various observations noted by scientists who’d been in that sector. She could say it was about a science vessel that went off course and used that planet as a marker while trying to realign their sensors. which was in fact one of the mentions within the pages. She could, but it had been a long morning and that would take more effort than she desired to exert. 

“That is untrue. First contact was not the first time Vulcans came to earth,” she said bluntly. “It’s tradition to keep logs and records such as these in written texts. The original documents, the ones recorded on computer, would have been destroyed, leaving only these notes as evidence.”

Nazari’s eyes went wide at this realization. It was the official statement of Vulcan, one of the corner stones of the Federation, the relationship between the two species had always (more or less) been one of mutual respect and honesty. To learn that the Vulcans had… LIED? Vulcans didn’t lie!

"We lied,” she finished. There were a few moments of silence as he took this shocking information in. “I can see by your emotional expression that you did not expect such an answer.” The young man shook his head still dumbfounded.

T’Penna ran her hand along the page. Would it be vain to say she admired the curving letters, that she found her species’ written word to be more satisfying to sight than many others she’d learned to translate? The sun was arching up over the dome, the temperature rising. The human was beginning to perspire. His face furrowed suddenly, and a stream of questions came all too quickly.

“But how? What happened? Did you affect our society? Did anyone die? How often did you visit earth? Were you seen? Is there some kind of conspiracy to keep this secret? Doe-“

The old woman held up her hand for silence. In response, Ramy squeezed his lips shut to the point of them turning inward. She enjoyed the breeze again as a particularly strong gust blew across the desert that lay beyond the dome. She’d have shut the door soon to stop the sands from collecting inside the green house. But for now, she turned her focus to the pages of the old tome and began to read aloud.

It is recorded that on this date a letter was received by the Vulcan high command regarding an incident on the third planet of the twelfth system. Due to navigational complications, a crew of five science offices were forced to land upon the planet of a primitive vulcanoid species. In an effort to secure resources from the semi-industrial species two of the officers, Spyrn and Suval disguised themselves in order to trade. Fortunately, the primitive inhabitants in question were easily fooled by a simple covering of the ears in adornments known as ‘hats’ and explained their dissimilar skin tone by way of being ‘foreign’ to the area. This however did increase their difficulty in trade as the primitive inhabitants-

“Do they really refer to humans as ‘primitive’ every time they mention them?” Ramy asked.  
T’Penna looked through the story. “Yes” she answered before continuing.

As the primitive inhabitants still separate themselves from others based on inconsequential details such as place of birth, physical appearance and way of speech.

He did have to admit that sounded primitive.

Due to distance the two members were forced to secure lodging for the night and interact with the beings over meals. The primitive inhabitants often consume meat as they have not advanced to a point of choosing not to kill in order to gain sustenance. Officers Suval and Spyrn became ill shortly after the consumption of such nutrition. Both attempted to find a secluded location in which to regurgitate his meal in the nearby wooded area. After approximately one hour and forty-six minutes of intermittent convulsions the two officers attempted to return to their lodging. However, due to the overheating of their core temperatures during that time several items of clothing were removed and due to their weakened state neither was of sound mind to realize the absence of their ‘hats’.

“Wait were they spotted? Did… did they break the prime directive?” Ensign Nazari looked to T’Penna with a mix of shock and glee.

The Vulcan woman gave a raise of her brow “No… The prime directive did not exist yet, therefore it could not have been broken.”

“… Technicality” Ramy mumbled though he was certain she heard him.

“Would you like me to continue?”

He straightened up “Yes, very much so.”

As it was near early light the officers decided to take their traded goods and leave the town prior to the primitive inhabitants seeing them and, logically, went through the wooded area to avoid the populated region. However, due to the irrational layout of domiciles and unfamiliarity they became unable to discern their trajectory in relation to their ship.

“They got lost” the human said plainly. One look from T’Penna and “Sorry…”

After several hours they found a familiar water way and followed it towards the mountainous region. While crossing it, due to the slippery nature of the rocks which it is more uncommon on Vulcan in comparison to the third planet of the twelfth system, officer Suval lost his balance and fell. The noise of which attracted the attention of a primitive inhabitant child.

Upon being seen, the child approached and proclaimed himself ‘John’ in introduction and proceded to ask the if the officers were ‘Elves’, a creature of superstition and folklore of the planet noted in appearance as having ‘Pointy ears’. The officers did the only logical thing they could given the circumstances: they agreed with the child rather than divulge their species to him

This had the unfortunate side effect of gaining the child’s interest. He proceeded to follow the officers, asking them various questions about their presence. He seemed particularly interested in the items they were taking back for repairs of their ship, specifically the one iron ring which would be used to stabilize the gravitational field around the warp core. The officers gave no details of their mission, however. In an effort to not be followed to their ship, they gave the boy an explanation that they needed to go a lengthy journey in order to save other members of their race and that the child would be in danger if he attended. This appeared to satisfy the primitive inhabitant and they were able to rejoin their group. The repairs were made, and the scientists were able to leave the following night without being detected.

T’Penna finished reading just as the winds began to pick up and the bell sounded signaling the end of third contemplation. The windows to the green house began to rattle and the opened door shook as if it might give way and tear from the building. The woman began to rise, slowly as her joints protested the movement. Ramy on the other hand jumped to offer assistance and rushed to secure entrance. It wouldn’t be long before the monks came through here to gather crops, preparing for lunch. The human would likely have to explain his actions from this morning, as well as why he’d taken a book from the library without permission. He sighed quietly, but not enough that the Vulcan didn’t hear his heavy breath.

“Come,” T’Penna ushered. “The others will be here shorty to harvest.”

Ramy gave her a quizzical stare.

“Unless of course you’d enjoy helping them prepare Yiskk?”


	3. There was a statue there

Ramy followed the monk as she slipped through one of the lesser used side doors connected to a long row of stairs which took them to the storage rooms beneath the kitchen. The Starfleet officer, ever ready for action, poised himself as they moved in order to catch the woman if she should fall. T’penna didn’t understand why he did this; she was hardly feeble. He was treating her like she was in her 240s not her early 200s. All the years spent tending to the garden, she wasn’t as frail as he made her out to be. Despite the grey in her hair and the sagging beneath her eyes, she still felt as capable of wrestling a Shelat as she did in her youth. Not that one would do such a thing without reason.

They came to a small room that had once been part of a greater structure. A building that had centuries ago outlived its purpose and was now only worth the protection it gave to various materials which needed to be kept away from the elements. That’s what it was for everyone else. For T’penna it was a place of solace where her actions weren’t under the gaze of her brethren and she could do as she pleased, with logic but without explanation. A few bags of clothing material the monks used for their robes sat near a small hearth. On the opposite side was a table, a few cups and some canisters containing dried leaves that Ramy recognized as being a Vulcan strain of tea. The whole thing illuminated by automatic lights that appeared reasonably out of place for the age of the building.

As the older woman sat down the book and went to preparing the cups, the younger being moved to the fireplace. Anticipating her needs, Ramy began to assemble kindling, ropes of a wool like material the burned quite a lot better than wood had been stored in a small box next to the stone hearth. What he couldn’t find, however, were the matches to light it.

“I suppose you could do that,” T’Penna said, grabbing the more modern automatic kettle from beneath the table, which needed neither fire or electricity to make it work. A simple filling of it with water and tap against a few buttons and the machine began to bubble away, steam billowing out of the pot and disappearing as it rose. It wasn’t long before she was pouring the hot liquid over the assembled cups. She allowed the heat to steep the tea before she handed it to Nazari. They stood in silence for a moment, simply sipping the warm beverage.

“I guess… I guess it never occurred to me that that could happen…” Ramy said softly, staring down at the few leaves which had managed to remain at the bottom of his drink. “Vulcans… can screw up.” and he lapsed back into quiet.

It wasn’t an inaccurate statement. T’Penna took a few more sips from her cup before placing it back down on the table and picking up the book. She studied it for a moment, turning pages with care and concern so as not to tear them. Different years, different authors graced the pages. The handwriting changed and she began to recognize certain dates. A sudden curious realization as she recalled this story from her youth.

T’Penna paused as her eyes darted back and forth along the page. Vulcan’s would deny any sort of feeling, nostalgia and sentiment being amongst them, but as she read her shoulders slumped, her eyes glazed for a moment in memory and, in a single unregistered moment, she left behind her place in the here and now and traveled back to the days when her father’s mother had told her of the incident.

Ramy noted the raised brow. “Will you read it to me?” he asked.

Having belong to the order for so long T’Penna had forgotten what it was like to entertain children. Reading stories appeared to be another trait common amongst both their species. “It was during the time when we were experimenting with long range transporter technology. This is written as it appeared in the logs of a professor and was transcribed into this document…”

Date 1294832

After several tests of the matter resequencer on various flora from neighboring planets, Dr. Spudak of the Academy of Science has determined that a larger scale unit should be utilized for long range use. Against concerns that such an instrument will have unpredictable effects due to the gravitational shifts of various solar flares, black holes, and other stellar phenomenon, he is assured that the device will be satisfactory in its execution. In his words, “Ushering in a new scientific era in which we may study all matter of the universe without ever leaving Vulcan.”

Date 1294833

Failure.

After two successful tests from neighboring star systems, Dr. Spudak believed it logical to experiment with the devices furthest reach. He locked target onto a rock of one of the moons of Tellaris Five. He activated the unit and, indeed, a teleportation did occur. What was not anticipated, however, was the appearance of primitive alien from the third planet of the twelfth system. It was later described as the beam from the matter resequencer being deflected by a comet which contained high amounts of Ilidium metals which are not conducive with this type of energy beam. It was then directed to the plains of Kesparlip where a solar flare from their second sun forced the signal to bypass three stars, eight planets, and one asteroid before locking onto the lifeform.

Upon its arrival the being uttered a high-pitched noise of shock. It refused to remain calm as it jumped down from the transportation pad and began to run about the lab in an erratic fashion, continuing the frantic call from its vocal cords. It was only logical for the scientists to hold their positions, allowing the creature time to adjust to the environment; it did not. Eventually, it attempted the forceful opening of the locked lab room doors by way of running repeatedly at them and propelling its body against the metals. This, of course, did nothing and eventually resulted in the alien’s unconsciousness.

It took several days to return the sedated being to its home world, costing the Academy several hours of otherwise productive time, lost resources, and manpower. The program is being audited by the Vulcan high command and the project will be reconsidered for validity in use.

"They never resumed the experiments of Dr. Spudak.” T’Penna stated “As I recall they logged the available works for theory and dismantled the transportation units. It was some years later that we gained the teleportation technology that we use now.”

Overhead, the monks could be heard returning to the kitchens to prepare their lunch and evening meals. T’Penna took her cup and savored the last bit of sweet flavor offered by the tea. They’d need the storage rooms to dehydrate some of the Uluri leaves when they were done. The expression the young human bore meant he understood this as well, his face turned up to the ceiling in forlorn gaze. She stretched out her arm and handed him the book. Ramy took it and secured into his robes as she mimed for him to follow. He did so without question, downing the last of his tea and placing the empty cup gently back on the table with some haste.

It was a series of very confusing catacomb like halls which led from the cellar to the upper sleeping quarters. The narrow exit only passable by turning to one’s side and shimmying through while sucking in your gut. T’Penna poked her head out first to ensure the coast was clear before letting the human move through after her and the two continued down the empty hall.

Once certain they were alone on this floor, Ramy resumed conversation. “That poor human,” he said somewhat softly, his mind putting himself in the same position. Some poor person had been living their ordinary life, completely unaware of the existence of anything beyond the stars in the sky and poof! All their molecules had gone fuzzy, completely rearranged, and filtered back together on a different planet in a strange room with strange beings. It had to be terrifying.

“The human was most difficult” T’Penna interjected.

“What? What do you mean?” Ramy, slightly indignant at the cold response.

“They caused damage to the lab as they ran amuck. And gave our scientist a lot of trouble during their return. If I recall correctly,” as Vulcans often did, “she tried to open several escape hatches that would have decompressed the ship and refused to take any of the food or water provided to her.”

“Don’t suppose it was Yiskk?” he asked, though his thoughts quickly became more bitter. “You can’t be that callous though.” He turnedg to her as they continued moving. “You, that is, the Vulcans… they abducted someone!”

His shock seemed out of place to T’Penna. Perhaps he didn’t fully understand the situation. “The human was not harmed. She was returned to her native lands and her memory was altered with a mind meld,” she explained.

“That’s even worse!”

“I fail see how.” She was leading them down the hall of the eastern wing.

“They erased her memory, did a mindmeld without consent and took her from her people, her family for who knows how long!” he half shouted as they passed the window where he’d stopped to breathe.

“Exactly 11 days 3 hours and 27 minutes.” She knew.

It was that kind of precision that got humans so worked up. Why did they have to pretend they were so much smarter? Why did they act as if they never did anything wrong, even when he held the proof of it in his hand? Couldn’t she be just the least little contrite?

Ramy stepped before the monk. No, he wasn’t going to let her get away with it! She needed to show some sign, some remorse over what they’d done! He opened his mouth, he just had to say something! She was looking past him.

“There was a Statue of Surak there…”

His face turned red and a little more embarrassed; Ramy gave another feeble attempt to say something. It was cut short by the evening gong to signify the start of lunch, a message for all members of the order not present. They were both certain the two of them were the only ones disassociated from the group. A small non-verbal conversation went on between the pair in that way that non-telepathic beings could do. A simple look, a simple connective thought of that same old boring bland food, the same old boring bland company. Yes, returning the book right now was far more fulfilling than any compound they could put on their stomachs.


	4. I am unfamiliar with 'that' expression

A simple handheld welding tool was all that was needed to put the statue pieces back together. Except for the tiny chip at the seem, you wouldn’t have known it had broken. T’Penna quietly sealed the figurine at the table in the library; a small wooden surface with two wooden benches only wide enough for one to occupy. Ramy had missed it before while snooping, being tucked back between large bookcases that reached the ceiling in monolithic fashion. The seating had been designed for short term use as evidence by how snug it fit between the shelves. The human bumping back into them with each gesture of his body as he made his way to sit.

“Do you think I’ll be reprimanded?” he asked.

T’Penna sat the figure down between them at the center of the table. “You humans give reprimands for the strangest things….” Her only note on the matter.

The gong sounded again to alert them that the meal had passed, and the monks would be headed out to do more chores. It wouldn’t be long before they came here and interrupted the pair. Ramy leaned back, bumping the books as he used them for support before sighing. He’d only obtained two genuinely amusing tales from this astounding collection of mishaps and he doubted he’d be allowed to take it with him when he left.

“How much more can you tell me before they get here?” he requested, not even sure how much more there was to tell.

T’Penna slid over the pages reading through at remarkable speed. He waited patiently in the quiet as he watched her eyes scan over the stories, her brow even twitching in response to some of the words. Ramy had to suppress his smile at that, as he doubted she was even aware she did it. It wasn’t likely any of the other monks would have told her, should they have noticed.

She paused in the middle of the novel, holding her place with a single finger and turned it shut. “I believe there are only three remaining logs that would interest you,” she offered. The young man sat up, resting his hands on the table in front of him and leaning forward so as not to miss a single word.

“During a routine inspection of your solar system, a science vessel used phaser fire to destroy a meteor that would have collided with their ship. The blast proved successful for the officers but caused a mass to dislodge and fall to earth. Unable to stop its trajectory due to systems failures, they could only record that it landed somewhere in the southern hemisphere.

“This was during a time you know as the Eugenics wars. While concerned that they may have altered the fate of earth, the team was satisfied to learn that only one building was affected by this meteor fall out: the home of a Eugenics advocator and politician. It resulted in his death. While all life is significance and meaningful, one casualty can, especially during a war, hardly be considered a great loss. Therefore, the scientist classified it as a minor inconvenience to the social structure of the third planet of the twelfth system and carried on with their research.”

Ramy thought back through his history. He’d studied extensively at the academy, long nights with large cappuccinos. He’d studied for test after test after test for his Advanced histories of earth class. He’d poured over logs, highlighted dates and names; he’d even passed with flying colors during midterms, and yet… he couldn’t remember a single damn thing. Not on the specifics. He’d gotten a great deal out of the concept. The parties and factions that had been at play, as well as the moral discourse Dr. Palt had engaged them in during lectures. He remembered the important things, about how bad that era was and he’d appreciated that he lived in a time after it. The names however escaped him, and if he’d once known of some political figure whose death by meteorite had been significant enough to note in the history books, well Ramy just couldn’t remember them.

He shook his head. “Doesn’t ring any bells.”

T’Penna continued. “There was also the temporal incident.” Her brow twitched just as when she’d been reading and Ramy looked away to conceal his amusement. “In the early days of time travel testing, we’d used several uninhabited planets in various areas to conduct experiments. While not in your star system, the team did report that while using this machinery in a near by system, a writing utensil was sucked into the vacuum of the temporal rift. Its trajectory was estimated to have arrived in the twelfth star system approximately 145.32 million years prior.”

Ramy couldn’t help but laugh at the thought that some dinosaur had possibly gotten conked on the head by a pen during the Jurassic period, the superior design of Vulcan instruments having ensured that the object would have survived the atmospheric drop. The idea that it could, quite possibly have landed on an Allosaurus was just plain funny to the ensign. His belly shook as he attempted to keep in the sound, but the more he tried, the sillier it all seemed, until snickers were escaping his mouth as he doubled over on the table and garnished a fairly worried look (not that Vulcans worried of course) from the monk.

“I suppose it would be best not to continue. You seem unable to fully process this information in a mature manner.” Her words coming off as a threat.

“No,” he squeaked out as he took a few deep breathes “Please, you said there was one more left?”

“It is trivial,” she said, still holding the book by the center. “We detected a large solar flare, one that caused a significant blackout on the third planet of the twelfth system. Our scientist went to investigate, found no reason to interfere, recorded various readings due to the flare and returned home without incident.”

“Oh,” not sure if it was the way she’d told it or the simplicity but Ramy lost his amusement. “I see.”

It was the calming reaction she had hoped for. “Of course, it does demonstrate that Vulcans investigated your planet prior to first contact. That they knew of your existence and this,” she held up the novel, “is of course evidence not only to our presence but to the fact that we concealed and destroyed evidence of our interference with human lives…”

That fact was even more subduing. Nazari cupped his hands together as he mulled it around in his mind. It wasn’t just that they’d made a mistake, it was that they’d made multiple mistakes that could have had intense consequences for the humans they had made them around. It was no different than breaking the prime directive, even if the actual directive hadn’t been in effect yet. If a journalist had only known about this, if they’d documented a story and put it out on the holo for all to see… What would be the consequences to Human/Vulcan relations after that. To a people, generations old that hardly even knew about these incidents. Would they be paying for the crimes of their ancestors? But wasn’t the truth always better than concealment? Did it really matter in this instance?

“Will you report this to Starfleet?” T’Penna asked the pressing issue.

Ensign Ramy Nazari looked up into those dark Vulcan eyes, so void of any particular emotion and yet so expressive. It wasn’t their fault their ears reminded humans of ancient magical beings, and Starfleet certainly had its fair share of mishaps revolving around the prime directive. The relationship between the species was fairing well. Honestly, where would the Federation be without each species aiding the other? So what if the Vulcans had a few centuries of interference ahead of everyone else?

“Nah,” Ramy said “And after all…” he grinned “To Err is Vulcan…”

T’Penna raised a severe brow “I am unfamiliar with THAT expression,” she said, knowing full well what he’d meant. His smile only grew as she opened the book back up, looking over the next half of the volume. “Would you like to know of our previous to first contact dealings with the Klingons?” she asked.

“Are you kidding?” he blurted.

“Why would I jest?” she asked in sincere misunderstanding.

“I’m sorry, T’Penna,” Ramy shook his head before getting comfortable in his chair. “Please continue…”

**Author's Note:**

> My first work I published on AO3!  
> I went back and edited to be chapters rather than a complete one shot.  
> Hope you enjoy :)


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